Word: hail
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Imperative Request. Not long ago the General, ripe with the prudence of 60, was appealed to by a charming woman whom German Monarchists still hail as their future Kaiserin. She, Princess Cecilia, onetime Duchess of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, onetime Crown Princess of Germany, asked little enough of old General von Seeckt. Surely the General would let her eldest son-her Wilhelm-enter the Ninth Company of Infantry in which the Hohenzollerns have always served...
...President finished breakfast, glanced at his morning mail, then climbed in his punctual limousine, sped* to Plattsburg, N. Y. He arrived. Cannon boomed 21 times, buglers sounded the Presidential flourish, the regimental band struck up the Star Spangled Banner and Hail to the Chief. Within five minutes, the Commanderin-Chief of the Army and Navy was on the reviewing stand, flanked by Col. John H. Hughes, commander of the Plattsburg military training camp, and Major General C. P. Summerall. Before them marched 1,600 citizen soldiers. Then Mr. Coolidge proceeded to inspect the camp in general and the mess hall...
Lusty Bavarians cheered at Nuremberg last week one whom they hail as "Our King"-the onetime Crown Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria. He, clad in a field-gray uniform, spike-helmeted, reviewed with Prince Oscar of Prussia (rep resenting Wilhelm of Doom) and the great Feldmarschall von Mackensen (TIME, Aug. 11, 1924) a mammoth parade of several thousand former Imperial officers and Reichswehr troops...
...even Italian artists are exempt. Arturo Toscanini, for years illustriously inseparable from La Scala in Milan, will reputedly conduct this winter at Costanza Opera in Rome. At La Scala it is whispered that the baton of Bernardino Molinari will flicker. Neapolitans, devotees of the famed San Carlos Opera will hail as their chief conductor, this winter, Tullio Serafin, long a brilliant conductor for the Metropolitan Opera of Manhattan. Pietro Mascagni will go to the Augustep, chief concert hall of Romans, it is said...
...LORD OF LABRAZ-Pio Baroja -Knopf ($2.50). The Spanish hail Señor Baroja as their most popular living talespinner. He writes a little like Dickens, a little like Stevenson, always like a Spaniard-that is, with bold light, harsh shading. His story here is quite simple-a blind nobleman in a priest-ridden hill town quixotically shoulders his brother's misdeeds, earning only calumny and spite from the populace, renouncing society and going to wander, Lear-like, over the bleak table-lands with a wronged barmaid for his Cordelia, a Basque beggar for Poor Tom. It is fiction...